


Speed Griffons

by todisturbtheuniverse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Bad Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todisturbtheuniverse/pseuds/todisturbtheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The redhead with the perpetual black eye has a crush on The Hanged Man’s bartender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speed Griffons

Corff never sees that red-headed prat when he visits Quintus.

You’d think he’d hang out at  _that_ bar, even if it’s in a brothel. No,  _especially_ because it’s in a brothel. Isn’t that part of the appeal? But he’s never there. Whenever Corff leaves Norah in charge and goes for a drink at the Blooming Rose, that kid vanishes too, finery and all.

But without fail, the next time Corff ducks behind the bar, it only takes a few minutes for Punching Bag to reappear—because he always,  _always_ has a black eye. Corff has a few theories, none of which involve him ever learning the kid’s name, because every time he drinks, he winces. Like what Corff serves is  _hurting_ him, somehow. He’s obviously a high-bred lad, and it would be better for all of them if he would bugger off back to Hightown where he belongs.

He always overpays, though, because he never has bits on him, only silvers. Corff tried to correct him the first time and got a blank look for his trouble, so he didn’t do it again. The extra coin is nice, even if it comes at the high price of having a sulking ass always at his bar.

He’s always trying to make small talk, too, like he’s got nothing better to do with his time than pry his nose into everyone’s damn business. “Norah’s been drinking again, you know,” he informs with an air of superiority as the barmaid flounces by. “I think Varric’s party might be out of hand,” he comments distastefully when Hawke and Isabela are in their cups and drunkenly singing from the tabletop. “What’s a  _speed griffon_?” he mocks, chuckling heartily at the stolen papers in his grasp.

He’s the least appealing human furnishing in Corff’s bar.

If it weren’t for the coin, Corff would turf him out on his ass.

"Why do you serve this swill, anyway?" he asks one night, frowning. His bruise is at the yellowed stage; this is as close as Corff’s seen it get to healed. "I’m sure you can make better."

"Go up to the Rose if you don’t like it," Corff tells him, up to the collar with exasperation.

"But I like it here," Punching Bag says, picking at his sleeve cuffs and frowning a little.

When Corff closes up that night, there are haphazard marks all over his short-lived manuscript. He doesn’t bother to read them before he bins the whole thing.

_Jumped-up prat_ , he thinks, without any real venom, because all of the human furnishings are a little irritating in their own way, but they’re  _his_ human furnishings, and it could be worse.


End file.
